


A Claim, a Kiss and a Whole Lot More

by CharlotteAshmore



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone, Caryl fic, F/M, First Time Together, Fluff, Jealous Daryl, Scheming Rick, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 08:38:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7353775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteAshmore/pseuds/CharlotteAshmore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has heard the story of Daryl's time with Joe and his band of misfits. Daryl never expected his friends to take the rule for claiming as more than the game they made it into. Until they take it too far and someone dares to try to claim Carol. Now it's man up or take the chance of losing her forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Claim, a Kiss and a Whole Lot More

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Walking Dead doesn't belong to me. This is just for fun … Lots and lots of smutty fun ;D
> 
> A/N: I was sitting in the car waiting on Aaron to exchange his shoes, and a plot bunny fkn attacked me. Still have the teeth marks! So yeah … I hope you enjoy this ;)

 

         “Claimed!” Rick chortled, snatching the last muffin from the tupperware container sitting on the center island in the kitchen.

         Daryl pulled his hand back with a scowl. God, how he fucking hated that word. He knew he never should have told Rick about that particular rule of Joe’s. He'd really spent a great deal of time trying to forget the time he'd traveled with that band of miscreants. It had made him revert to whom he'd been before … before the outbreak, before the group, before … Carol. He never again wanted to be the man he was before she came into his life.

         Daryl had let Rick talk him into having a few, the newly acquired booze much stronger than anything he was used to. It didn't help his mood any when Glenn and Abraham had insisted he join them. It was nothing but plain and simple peer pressure, to be honest. And though he might've wanted to decline, he could hear Merle's voice in the back of his head calling him a pussy. His brother wouldn't’ve declined such grade A whiskey to moon over a woman.   Then again, Merle would have the balls to go after her. He wouldn't let his self-doubt stop him from something or some _one_ he wanted.

         So he'd sat on the front porch of the house he shared with Carol, Michonne, Rick and the kids, and did his level best to drink his way through three quarters of a bottle of fine Tennessee whiskey. Who knew he'd have such loose lips?  All the men had a story to share about when they'd been separated after the fall of the prison, and he didn't mind hearing them … again. But he hadn't planned on sharing his own tale. He'd explained to Rick how he'd fallen in with Joe and his ragtag bunch, and he'd shared it with Carol one night on that very porch. Twice was enough, and only to those two very understanding individuals he considered his dearest friends.

         So how had it come about where he'd sat and spilled his guts to Glenn and Abe?  The former he knew was a notorious gossip, the latter he knew not well at all. Fuckin’ whiskey, that's how. From that moment on, they'd been ‘claiming’ everything in sight. Once word got out as to what the men were up to, some of the women joined in. Michonne had claimed both Rick and Carl's coveted tubes of toothpaste and refused to give them back or share. Rick had been forced three towns over to find more. Thankfully, Carol thought the whole idea to be ridiculous and refused to play along. Maggie and Glenn had gotten into a huge argument already over some item he'd claimed which clearly belonged to her. She'd chased him from the house and he'd been forced to bunk on the sofa at Rick’s.

         Things were getting out of hand … quickly. He could only imagine what they'd all be trying to claim next. He was startled when Carol came to stand in the doorway in nothing but her robe, hair still wet from her shower. Her eyes narrowed dangerously on Rick as she stalked forward and swiped the muffin from his hand. “Rick Grimes, what have I told you about this claiming nonsense?  I told you last night I was saving that last muffin for Daryl's breakfast.”

         Daryl smirked smugly at his friend as Carol set the muffin on a saucer and handed it to him. Rick frowned down at the granola she poured for him. “I'm beginning to really hate granola. Any chance you might make more muffins today?” he asked hopefully.

         “Perhaps. If you two behave,” she warned. “I'll visit the pantry later and see what Olivia has on hand.”

         Carol stopped next to the table where the two men sat and cast Daryl one of the bright smiles she reserved just for him. “Are you still leaving this morning for that run to Hilltop?”

         He nodded, licking crumbs from his fingers. “Uh huh,” he mumbled, his eyes traveling the length of her ivory throat to the sweet swell of her breasts where they peeked from her gaping robe. Rick kicked him beneath the table and his eyes snapped over to him sharply to see the man laughing. He blushed a deep crimson and cursed silently for having been caught staring.

         Carol tilted her head to the side and smiled knowingly. Instead of one of her usual teasing remarks, she withdrew a list from the pocket of her robe and handed it to him. “Here you go, Pookie. And make sure you invite Melissa down to visit next week. I miss her and the boys.”

         Rick shook his head as Daryl's gaze followed the soft Sway of Carol's hips as she sauntered out of the kitchen. He'd despaired long ago of those two mules ever admitting their feelings for one another. Even after Carol had saved them all from an impossible fate at Terminus and the heartfelt reunion they'd shared, the two still danced around each other, scared to fess up and rejoice in the love they clearly felt for the other.

         “Th’ fuck y’ lookin’ at?” Daryl growled, seeing just where his friend's wandering eyes had been just a moment ago.

         Rick waved him off. “Must've been lost in thought,” he said by way of an excuse. He could barely keep the grin from his lips as a plan slowly began to formulate in his mind. He would have to get the others to help, but if everything went to plan, Daryl would have no choice but to claim his woman … Or lose her for good.

 

*.*.*

 

         Rick was trying his level best to be patient with his friend. Yet, sometimes he really wanted to throw his common sense right out the window and take a swing at him. Now was one of those times. “Deanna is insisting everyone attend.”

         Daryl lowered the rag he'd been using to clean his crossbow and glanced up at Rick from beneath his drawn brows. “Well that don't include me. I ain't gone t’ none o’ th’ others, an’ I ain't goin’ t’ this one.”

         “C’mon, you just don't want to go because you'll have to shower and change.”

 _Th’ fuck?_  He looked down at his jeans, and the somewhat grungy sleeveless shirt under his vest. Daryl knew he'd been far worse off before they'd come to Alexandria. “Ain't nothin’ wrong with th’ way I look,” he grumbled. Carol hadn't complained lately at least. She hadn't even threatened him with the water hose this week. “‘Sides … I ain't goin’ to one o’ Deanna’s stupid parties.”

         Rick rolled his eyes. “You've never been to _any_ of her parties, and I'm starting to catch hell from her because of it.”  He gave himself a mental pat on the back for pulling out the guilt card. “As the leader of this group, it falls to me to keep everyone in line as we try to fit in. I know you don't really like it here, Daryl, but it's good for Carl and Judith … and Carol. Do you want us to get kicked out of here? For them to be on the road again?”

         Dixon’s lip curled up over his teeth in a snarl. Of course he didn't want any of them back out there facing death at every turn. They'd barely survived the last go round. Mentioning the kids and Carol was a low blow. “Don't think I don't know what you’re tryin’ t’ pull here, Rick. It ain't gonna work.”

_Damnit! Strike one_ _…_

         “I don't know what you're talking about,” he lied, staring the hunter down. “I do know there will be consequences if we don't at least try to fit in. Going to Deanna’s party tonight will show her -”

         “No!”

         Rick groaned inwardly, not at all pleased with how this was going. _Strike two_ _…_

         Daryl rose to his feet to face off with his friend, the crossbow hanging at his side. He didn't want Rick to think he'd shoot him, but he _did_ want the man to back off. It was then Carol chose to walk out on the porch, trying to fasten the clasp to a gold chain about her neck. He didn't fail to notice it was the same one he'd brought back from a run several weeks ago and left it in her room for her to find.

         “I thought I heard you two out here,” she said, shooting a disapproving glance Rick’s way. “No more fighting.” She turned a radiant smile towards Daryl. “I'm so glad you're here, Pookie.  Would you help me with the clasp? I can't seem to quite grasp it.”

         Rick smirked as Daryl blushed at the pet name she'd bestowed upon him long ago, and leaned a shoulder against one of the columns spaced along the porch. Things were about to get interesting and he didn't want to miss a second of the drama about to play out.

         Already the hunter’s eyes had nearly bugged out of his head when he'd gotten his first look at Carol's new dress. It was short, the straight skirt falling gently from her hips to end just above her knee. The halter style top tied behind her neck, leaving ample cleavage on display and much of her back and arms bare. She was absolutely lovely, and the bright red silk complimented her fair skin perfectly. “Where th’ hell y’ goin’ dressed like that?” Daryl asked as he fumbled with the clasp. It only took him three tries to fasten it, his hands were shaking so badly.

         Carol's face fell with disappointment and a little uncertainty. “What? Don't you like it?  Melissa brought it yesterday when she visited. Should I change?”

         “You look beautiful, Carol,” Rick said, pulling her into a warm hug. “There's not a thing wrong with your dress.”

         Carol still looked hesitant as she cast her eyes back to Daryl, but she let it go. There was no reason for her to think he'd protest. She knew she was just being silly. “Why aren't you ready, Daryl? We're supposed to be at Deanna’s in an hour, and you haven't even showered yet.”

         He sent her a long suffering glance. “I … um … not goin’ … stupid party,” he mumbled, ducking his head.

         “I'm sorry,” Carol said sweetly, planting her hands on her hips. “I didn't quite catch that.”

         Rick’s teeth hurt as he clenched them to stop himself from laughing. Oh she was good.

         “I said I ain't going t’ th’ stupid party. I can stay here with lil’ Asskicker.”  There that was a decent excuse, right?

         Wrong!  “Carl is watching Judith tonight, and we’ll be just a few houses down in case he needs us,” Rick provided.

         Daryl looked at him with a patented _I-am-so-going-to-take-you-out-back-and-fucking-gut-you_ glare.

         Carol bit her lip, her eyes wide and pleading. “You _are_ going, aren't you?  I already laid your clothes out on your bed.”  

         She laid a hand on his arm and he let go, knowing then he'd follow her into hell. Or in this case, that dreaded party. How could he let her go out looking like that with no one to protect her … Not that she couldn't protect herself from unwanted advances, but she was his. She may not know it - _yet_ \- but she was, and he'd be damned if he weren't there to keep her admirers at bay. They'd see this as their chance to take advantage of the kindness and good nature she showed to everyone. To hell with that.

         “We ain't stayin’ long!” he snarled, pulling the screen door open to go inside.

         “Of course not, Pookie.”

         Rick hid his smirk as he followed. He still had to get ready too, and he just knew Daryl would use all the hot water purely out of spite.

_Home run!_

 

*.*.*

 

         Daryl debated leaving his vest at home. Carol wouldn't like it if he wore the filthy thing over the clean clothes she'd chosen for him. Then again, it would be like being locked in a lion’s den without a piece of his armor.  He looked himself over with a critical eye in the bathroom mirror. He didn't see anything she'd approve of, in fact. He looked old, his hair was way too long, and he wore a permanent scowl. What was there for her to find attractive?  Yet she always had a ready smile for him, even when she was bone weary from playing den mother and nursemaid all day. She made sure he ate, most times setting aside a plate for him before she fed anyone else. Carol made him sleep regularly too. When his mind was filled with nightmares of his past, a gentle touch or soothing word from her was all he needed. He just needed _her_ , he just didn't have the courage to step up and ask for what he wanted. In any other aspect of his life he wouldn't hesitate to go after what had caught his eye. This was different, this was his heart, and he didn't know if he could give her the power to break him. Because a rejection from her would surely destroy him.

         He rubbed at the scruff on his chin. He knew Carol liked it, but when had he let it get so scraggly?  He dug through the top drawer beneath the sink and had just found a pair of scissors when Rick knocked on the door. He wondered what the hell was up with his friend and his propensity to be such a pain in the ass lately.  “What?!”

         “You ready yet?” Rick called, rattling the doorknob. It opened under his hand, Daryl having forgotten to lock the door before he'd jumped in the shower. “What's taking you so long? Carol and Michonne left twenty minutes ago.”

         The hunter quickly pulled the black shirt with its silver gray pinstripes over his shoulders. Even after all this time, he didn't want anyone seeing the mass of scar tissue littering his back and chest. “You let them go alone?”

         “Man, the only reason I'm still here is because Carol made me promise not to let you back out.”

         Daryl eyed him coldly. “Ain't gonna back out, and she knows it.” Not with her traipsing about half dressed, showing off her charms to God and creation, he thought petulantly.

         “See, it didn't kill you to clean up a bit,” Rick grinned.

         “No, Grimes, but I may kill _you_ if y’ don't shut yer trap.”

         It took less than ten minutes for them to walk the short distance to Deanna's. “Just relax, Daryl, and be yourself.  On second thought, that may be a bad idea.”  The door opened and Rick was greeted warmly by the woman who'd welcomed them into the safe haven.

         Daryl looked around with a barely veiled look of disgust. He hadn't really noticed the needless luxury when he'd been brought there for his interview. Now it all seemed a bit too much considering those outside the walls with only the clothes on their backs left to them. Deanna latched onto Daryl's arm and Rick hurried off in the opposite direction. _Fuckin’ traitor!_ _Just y’ wait._

         “Mr. Dixon, how wonderful of you to accept my invitation,” the woman preened. He felt his stomach roll as she led him further into the house. Oh yeah, Rick was definitely going to pay for this one.

 

*.*.*

 

         Man, where have you been?  We been coolin’ our heels for over an hour,” Abraham drawled lazily. He was more than ready to play his part as soon as Rick gave the okay.

         Glenn, worried about Daryl's wrath, was a little less enthusiastic. “Are you sure this is a good idea?  I'm all ready for Carol to finally get her man -”

         “Past time, to be honest,” Maggie cut in.

         “-but he's gonna be pissed if he finds out what we're up to, Rick,” Glenn finished.

         “I think it's sweet,” Eric added, handing Rick a beer as he moved to stand beside Aaron. “Daryl needs to stop mooning over his woman and make a stand.”

         Rick took a swig from the bottle in his hand and grinned as Michonne cocked a dark brow at him. “Has anyone thought about what Carol might do if she finds out you're manipulating Daryl?  That is one scary woman when she wants to be,” Michonne said, adding her opinion to the mix.

         “They'll be too busy to worry about what part we played in all this,” Rick said confidently.

         “What’s Deanna gonna say about all this?” Abraham wondered aloud.

         “She's in on it. Said she was more than willin’ to help two soulmates find their way to one another.” Maggie frowned. “What? Y'all didn't think you could hide somethin’ like this from her in her own home, now did you?”

         Tara narrowed her eyes at Rick. “Just remember it was your idea when Daryl gets that crossbow of his and shoots you in the ass.”

_Batter up!_

  
*.*.*

 

         Daryl eased himself down onto the wide cushioned arm of the sofa, next to Tara, and took a long drink from the bottle in his hand. He'd barely been there half an hour and he was ready to go home. His room at the house was simply four walls and a roof, but it was next to Carol's and he'd been able to find a small measure of peace there. Just knowing she was safe and warm in her bed with only the thin wall separating them was enough.

         He watched her surreptitiously from the corner of his eye where she stood across the room with some of the other women from the town. He wondered why she bothered. Bunch of hens, the lot of them. Useless. They'd benefit from Carol's fighting skills much more than the recipes she shared with them.

         Daryl wasn't interested in the conversation going on around him, much more fascinated with how the chandelier’s light reflected off the gold of her pendant, the tiny heart nestled there just above her breasts. A token of _his_ affection, though she didn't know it. He wanted to take her home and settle into the rocking chair on their front porch. He _needed_ to pull her onto his lap and just hold her, to bury his face in the crook of her neck and breathe her in. He wondered if she would let him. They'd both been much more relaxed with one another since their reunion - God, he never wanted to be separated from her again - but he still couldn't bring himself to tell her how he really felt. Couldn't she see it in the way he looked at her, hear it in the soft tone of his voice when he spoke with her. He wasn't like that with anyone else. Maybe she didn't _want_ to see it.

         “Claimed!”

         Daryl's head jerked around to see Glenn pulling Maggie across his lap. She wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck and kissed him soundly.

         “I didn't think you could do that to … y’know … people,” Tara said. “Isn't that kinda wrong?”

         Denise laughed at her side and slung an arm about her shoulders. “What's wrong, baby? Don't you like to be claimed?”

         Tara grinned devilishly at her girlfriend. “You know it. But it's different with us. We're already together.  What if someone claims you who is totally your polar opposite and is completely wrong for you? Then you're kinda stuck with them.”

         Michonne arched a brow at her. “So you're saying if Spencer over there decided he wanted to claim …” Her gaze swept the room. “Sasha? Oh yeah I can see the problems that could cause.”

         Maggie snorted. “She'd totally kick his ass.”

         Daryl shifted uncomfortably. He really didn't like where this was going. His eyes swung back to the last place he'd seen Carol, but she wasn't there. He quelled the panic rising in his chest, and quickly searched the room. When he found her next to the open french doors, taking advantage of the cool evening breeze filtering in, he relaxed. Jessie and Sam were no threat

         Abraham winked at the girls sitting on the couch. “It makes you wonder, with all the available women in this town, why they _all_ haven't been snatched up. Especially the women in our group. These yahoos could benefit from havin’ them on their side.  They're all a lot more than just a pretty face, that's for damn sure.”

         “Hmm,” Rick hummed thoughtfully as he ran an idle finger over the stubble on his chin. “Carol would be the first they'd go after, don’tcha think?  She's beautiful, nurturing, kind … Is the best cook I've ever known, and that includes my own mother … And though she's a warrior, she's soft and loving.” He gazed down at Michonne tucked into his side. “If I weren't otherwise involved, I might not mind -”

         “Th’ hell y’ would!” Daryl snarled, his hand clutching the bottle he held so tightly his knuckles were white. “She's too fine a lady for th’ likes o’ you … for any o’ us. _And_ she don't like y’ that way.”

         “Well …” Abraham drawled. “Sounds to me like you're jealous, my friend.”

         Daryl glanced across the room to where she was still engrossed in conversation with the petite beautician. He hoped she never found out she'd been the topic of such a conversation. “Ain't jealous,” he snapped. “I know where me an’ Carol stand. And it ain't none o’ y'all’s business.”

         Glenn shared a look with Maggie and she smiled. “Tobin seemed to be mighty interested in Carol. Last week at the job site when we were working on the wall, he was asking all sorts of questions about her.”

         Daryl gnashed his teeth, a haze of emerald green clouding his vision. _Th’ fuck?_   _Somebody's asking ‘bout my woman?_ _Oh hell no!_

         Rick was enjoying himself immensely. This was the most entertaining thing he'd seen since before his coma and he'd been addicted to Monday night wrestling. Recreational activities were extremely limited due to the apocalypse after all. “What's up with you, Daryl,” he asked innocently. “It's not as if you have any claim to Carol … right?”

         Rick Grimes needed a swift kick in the ass, the hunter thought. He knew all too well how Daryl felt about Carol. He was just trying to get a rise out of him, and … He looked over at Carol again and paled. That sneaky sum’bitch laborer had taken Sam and Jessie’s spot next to Carol and was leaning entirely too close to her. Her musical laughter drifted across the room to tease his ears, and he rose slowly without realizing it. His vision took on a tunnel effect, and he couldn't see anything but the man's hand slipping around to rest at the small of her back.

         He ignored his friends - who had grown deathly silent as they watched him, just waiting for him to explode - and made a life changing decision.

         “CLAIMED!” Daryl roared as he began to push his way through the crowd milling around Deanna's living room, his gaze zeroed in on Carol. He gave Tobin a none too gentle shove. “Keep your filthy hands offa my woman, or I'll break ‘em off!”

         “Daryl!  What -” Carol hissed.  It quickly turned into a shriek as he pivoted towards her on his heel and roughly tossed her over his shoulder. Deanna’s guests parted for him to pass, still fearful of the brooding man who usually kept to himself.  They weren’t at all sure what would happen to them should they get in his way … or lord forbid, try to stop him.  “Put me down right now, Daryl Dixon!”

         “No!”  He paused just long enough to swipe a bottle of Southern Comfort off the refreshment table before making his way to the door.

         Carol was mortified, her face glowing pink as they passed Deanna on the way out the door.  The woman smiled knowingly at her, standing in the open doorway to watch the neanderthal carry Carol off down the street in the direction of their home.  

         Rick leaned his head back against the sofa and grinned smugly like the cat who’d just eaten his fill of the cream.  Michonne elbowed him in the ribs.  “We’ll be lucky if they don’t tear the house down.”

         “What d’you mean?”

         “Their tempers combined with all that pent up sexual frustration.  I hope Carl has sense enough to bring Judith over to Glenn and Maggie’s,” she said.

         He dropped a soft kiss on her bare shoulder.  “He’s already there.”

 

*.*.*

 

         Carol was fit to be tied by the time they reached the front door, boiling mad as he took the stairs two at a time once inside, and furious as he dropped her unceremoniously onto her bed where she bounced twice before catching herself.  Her eyes shot icy blue daggers at him, her lips pressed into a thin line of displeasure as he began to pace, the bottle of whiskey still clasped tightly in his hand.

         “What th’ fuck were y’ thinkin’, lettin’ him put ‘is hands all over y’?” he snarled.

         Her mouth dropped open as she gaped incredulously at him.  “His hands were _not_ all over me, Daryl.  He touched my back to lean in closer so I could hear what he wanted to say.  A better question would be … what the hell is wrong with you?!”  She shot off of the bed, hobbling due to the fact that he’d lost one of her shoes on the way home.  She kicked off its twin and marched around the footboard to poke a finger in the center of his chest.  “How dare you use that claiming business as an excuse to embarrass me in front of all and sundry?  I am _not_ some prize, Daryl Dixon, or an object for you to stake your claim.  I am a human being, and I will _not_ let you treat me this way.”

         Carol didn't even want to think about how long she'd loved this man; how many nights she'd lain awake wanting him. When she'd been banished, it had hurt her to have to give up her family, but it had nearly destroyed her to think she'd never see Daryl again. After she'd saved them all from Terminus, and he'd embraced her as though she was the only hope he had left in the world, she'd thought there was a chance he might have more than friendly feelings toward her. But he'd closed himself back up - not as tightly as before - and held her at arm's length once more. She'd finally convinced herself they'd never be more than friends. So why the hell was he acting this way?

         Daryl took a long drink, letting the whiskey burn through him before he set the bottle on her dresser and raked an unsteady hand through his hair, still heavily in the throes of his anger. “He. Touched. You,” he ground out, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “He put ‘is hands on y’, woman!”

         Then she saw it, the lightbulb finally clicking on in her head. He wasn't just angry … he was _jealous._  Why?  Why when he'd never once made her think he wanted more by neither word nor deed. Her anger at his high handed tactics fled. “Why does it matter if another man touches me, Daryl?”

         His hands clenched into fists at his side, but she wasn't afraid. She was used to his temper by now after knowing him for so long, and he wasn't the same kind of man her ex-husband had been. Daryl Dixon would never hurt her.

         Daryl’s hands curled over her upper arms and dragged her forward until they were pressed nose to nose. His teeth bared, his hair hanging down in his eyes, he looked wild. A sane woman would have been terrified. But she wasn't just any woman, this was Carol. Already he could feel his flesh tightening with need.

         She let him back her into the wall and lean into her, his hips fitting themselves in the cradle of her thighs to pin her in place. Still, she remained outwardly calm in the face of his feral anger. He needed an outlet and she'd gladly surrender to his whims … _if_ he would simply answer her question.

         “Why, Daryl?” she asked again, sliding her hands up over his chest to rest on his shoulders where she could tangle her fingers in the ends of his long hair.

         “Because you're mine, Carol,” came his whispered reply. Before he could think or choose more carefully guarded words, the pure honest emotion in his heart was spilling from his wayward tongue. “Mine!  I've lost y’ so many times, woman; I jus’ can't do it again.”

         Her lower lip trembled as she pulled him closer and brushed them against his cheek to catch the stray tear his memories caused to spill over his lashes. When she'd been lost in the tombs, destined to die alone, he'd thought it was her walker he'd have to put down. Her banishment by Rick when he'd thought never to find her again, and then when she'd been struck by that car and whisked away from him in Atlanta. And not the least of which were her own issues lately … only one thing had never changed as she'd become the woman she was now, and that was just how much she loved him to the deepest truest part of her heart.

         “I've always been yours, Daryl. You just didn't realize it,” she whispered softly. “I can't even remember a time when I didn't love you.”

 

*.*.*

 

        Daryl pulled back to look at her, to gauge the honesty in her eyes. Carol had never been able to hide the truth from him, which was why he could always tell when she was lying; it was always written clearly in her azure gaze. Her eyes were open wide, all the emotion she was feeling right then and the first trace of tears there for him to see. He'd expected anger for manhandling her, and hoped for maybe a hint of desire. Love hadn't even been a fleeting wish. Yet he wasn't going to fool himself into saying he didn't want her love. He craved it … _her._ All of her.

         He dropped his gaze, suddenly aware of how far he'd gone to get to this place. The second he'd seen Tobin’s hand come in contact with her - no matter how innocent it may have been - he'd lost control. Some primal instinct to claim his woman had taken over and he'd lost it. Oh god, he'd embarrassed her in front of her friends with no regards for her feelings … and yet she hadn't kicked his ass the moment he'd set her down.

         Her hands slipped around his waist as he began to pull away, holding him tightly. “Oh no you don't, Daryl Dixon. You're not going to run from me now,” she fairly growled.

         “M’sorry,” he said, his fingers fidgeting at her waist. “Lost my temper … no excuse for what I did t’ y’.”

         Carol grinned impishly despite her fear he'd pull away and want things to go back to how they'd been before. She couldn't allow that to happen. “I’m glad you did if it finally gave you the courage to face your feelings.  It was nice to know you're capable of something so human as jealousy.”

         “I wasn't jealous,” he roared. At her dubious brow, the heat left him just as quickly as it had come. “Fine! I was jealous.”

         Carol chuckled lowly, her fingers plucking his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans to get at the hot flesh beneath. He let out a low hiss, her hand moving up over his belly to trace over his ribs sending a surge of lust through his lower extremities. He ground himself to her against his will, seeking out her heat.

         One hand slipped under his hair, fingers gently kneading at the top of his spine. “Do you want me, Daryl?” his woman purred, her warm breath fanning against the shell of his ear. He shivered, unable to hide his response to her. “Are you mine too?  Do I get to claim _you_?  Show you how very much I love you?”

         _Fuckkkk!_ Daryl leaned in and caught her lips in a kiss meant to sear her to her toes. It was sloppy and inexperienced - he couldn't even remember the last time he'd been with a woman, and didn't care to - all teeth and tongue and lips, but she didn't seem to mind. “Yes,” he rasped before his tongue teased over her bottom lip, his teeth nipping, anything to get her to let him in. He wanted her tongue. Desperately, and would do anything she wanted in order to claim it. But apparently she wasn't done with him. Why was she talking when they could be kissing? He'd dreamed of kissing her sweet mouth for what seemed like forever and now she wanted to talk? He could have wept. “Yours … always have been,” he growled lowly as his lips trailed welty over her chin to suck at the frantically beating pulse point beneath her jaw. “When y’ just stood there so brave an’ let me yell at y’ that night. Knew then there'd never be anyone else for me.”

         Carol smacked his shoulder and stared open mouthed at him. “Why didn't you ever say anything?”

         He winced. She was stronger than she looked, especially when her ire was piqued. “Didn't know if y’ felt th’ same. Y’ was always teasin’ me, like it was a game or somethin’. How was I s’posed t’ know y’ were serious?”

         Carol groaned. “Why now? What made today so different?” she demanded, trying to ignore his erection straining against her core.

         “This stupid claimin’ business Rick started!” he huffed in frustration. “They all think it's a game, but some of ‘em are takin’ it seriously … An’ then y’ come out o’ the house in that dress -”

         “You like my dress, Pookie?”

         Daryl arched a brow at her. As if she didn't know there was a standing ovation in his pants because of that fucking dress. “Y’ know damn good an’ well how fuckin’ hot y’ look in th’ damn thing.  Every one o’ those assholes at th’ party was eye fuckin’ y’!”   

        Carol bit her lip and pushed against his shoulders, guiding him back towards the bed, her turn to show him a little something about claiming. The back of his knees hit the mattress, and he fell back hard. She didn't waste a second, not wanting him to change his mind and beat a hasty retreat. Frankly, she was amazed they'd made it this far.   She hiked up her skirt and climbed atop his lap, straddling him, and diving in for another kiss.

        At first he didn't respond, and she wondered if she'd shocked him with her boldness, but then he opened for her questing tongue, his arms coiling about her and she had what she was looking for.

 

*.*.*

 

        Daryl dropped back against the bed, the breath leaving his body in a rush. Before he could even respond, she was there, her heat settling over his throbbing arousal, her fingers going to the buttons on his shirt and her lips slanting over his. He couldn't move, lost in a moment he'd only dreamed of before. Every synapse in his brain fired at the same time, overloading his senses, and it was a miracle he didn't come at the first touch of her hot tongue at the seam of his lips.

        He opened for her, reeling from the feel of her tongue finally sliding in to taste him. He drew in a sharp breath, unprepared for the pure sensation she left in her wake. If she made him this hard with a single kiss, how was he ever going to last long enough to be inside of her?

        She was breathless and smiling when she pulled back to look at him with a sloe-lidded gaze. She leaned over and nipped his ear, her voice teasing. “Y’know I wore that dress just for you. Only you, Daryl. I don't care how many of the others look … you're the only man who gets to _touch.”_

        He couldn't suppress the whimper which rushed past his lips. “Th’ fuck y’ tryin’ t’ do t’ me, woman?! Y’ killin’ me,” he groaned. “I ain't never gonna last an’ then y’ gonna change your mind about wantin’ me.”

        Carol kissed, licked and bit her way down his throat, careful to keep her seat as he bucked against her, needing friction, heat, anything to quell the storm raging within him. He writhed beneath her his hands alternating between running along her thighs and gripping the sheets to the point where he knew there would be tears in them come morning. Some semblance of control returned to him when she parted his shirt and could get her first good look at his scarred chest, her hands splaying lightly over his ribs.

        A cigarette burn above his right hip, lash marks which had wrapped around his body to cut into the flesh at his sides, a particularly jagged line of scar tissue from a knife wound. Carol herself had stitched that one for him, and now she traced it gently with her fingertips. Daryl could feel the heat rise in his cheeks and he turned his face away, unable to meet her gaze.

        Of course his woman wouldn't let him hide from her. The time for hiding, for running was long past. He'd let her in, put his claim on her, and in his heart she would remain. Her gentle hand came to rest on his jaw, turning his attention back to her. “Stay here with me, baby. Let the past go … Please?  Just let me love you,” she commanded gently.

        He briefly wondered how she could love so deeply after all she'd had to endure. How had she never just given up?  He didn't have it in him to quit, to show weakness of any kind. That kind of thinking only made the beating worse, whether by an abusive father or life in general. But knowing Carol, loving her as he did, made him fight a little harder, knowing he'd get to look on her lovely face and see that teasing smile at the end of the day.

        Now he felt himself let go, pushing all his demons aside to focus on her touch. His back arched as she dipped that wicked little tongue back towards his chest to lave over a nipple, her nails scraping over the other. It was more than his touch starved body could handle.

        Daryl sat up, his arms vise-like around her waist as he buried his face against her throat, fighting not to lose the last shred of sanity he possessed and embarrass himself before he had a turn to explore her and bring her pleasure.

        “Too much?” she asked, bringing one hand up to card through his hair.

        He nodded shakily, still trying to bring his breathing under control. He felt the loss as her fingers slipped from his hair, and his smoky cobalt gaze quickly lifted to hers in askance. Carol smiled to reassure him, and moved to untie her dress where it fastened behind her neck.

        Daryl felt his mouth go dry as the two ends came apart and she let the entire top half of the dress pool about her waist. “Fuck me,” he cursed. She hadn't worn a bra due to the open back, and he was left staring at her naked breasts. He felt his cock twitch, and he groaned.

        Carol giggled. “We're getting there, Pookie.”

        Daryl felt hot all over and knew he was blushing again. What was it about this woman that she could render him an awkward teenager with her teasing?  His work-roughened hands ghosted over her ribs, working their way up, encouraged by the soft mewls issuing from her throat.  Her head fell back with a soft _yes_ as they covered her breasts. He didn't hesitate to give them a gentle squeeze as he pulled her forward and buried himself between them, his fantasy coming to life before him.

        Her hands buried themselves in his soft hair and her breath caught on a tiny gasp as his scruff rubbed against her sensitive flesh. A fresh flush of desire rose on her skin, and he debated chasing it up to her mouth, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the haven of pleasure he'd found. He growled as her nails scored his tender scalp, and he couldn't put it off any longer - despite his want to savor every second and prolong his exploration for as long as possible - his lips closing over one taut bud.

        His rough tongue rasped over her nipple, again and again before suckling deep and pressing it to the roof of his hot mouth. His woman felt like warm silk and tasted better than ambrosia. He saw stars as she ground her warm wet center against his cloth-covered cock, her heat searing him through the fabric. He didn't want it to end, his hands and mouth on her, the sweet sounds of her pleasure echoing in the room, the unadulterated desire and love so prevalent in her gaze as she looked down at him and whispered his name.

        Daryl shucked his shirt, not sparing a thought to what she might see, his scars a distant memory beneath the onslaught of her questing hands. He took a moment to rid her of the dress and nearly came at the sight of the lacy red panties barely covering her sex. “Jesus fuck, woman!  Th’ hell those come from?” he demanded. He'd blushed for a week last time he'd helped her bring the laundry in off the line and had gotten a gander at her unmentionables … and the thong she was wearing hadn't been with them.

        Carol bit her lip, wondering if he disapproved. “Melissa brought them to go with the dress. Don't you like them?” she whispered breathlessly.

        Daryl groaned, feeling as though he would die if he couldn't bury himself inside her. This tiny scrap of lace was going to be his undoing. His arms wrapped beneath the sweet swell of her ass as he rose to his knees, not wanting to lose an inch of contact as he flipped her onto her back. She locked her feet at his back and lifted her hips to rub herself against him, needing his heat, his hardness, and friction to dull the ache building in her core.

        He was quickly losing the battle with his body, his need too great. He needed her now. Yet he still flinched when her hands slipped between them to work at his belt.

        Carol froze, a furrow appearing between her brows. “Daryl,” she breathed. “Are you alright?  We don't have to -”

        He silenced her with a kiss, pouring every ounce of what he was feeling into that simple joining of their lips. He took her hand and guided it back to his belt, declaring without a sound that he was hers. She let out a sigh of relief and quickly pulled it from the belt loops of his jeans to toss onto the floor with her dress. She whimpered when he pulled away, but it was only to rid himself of his boots and the rest of his clothes until he stood before her as naked as she.

        Daryl watched her through hooded eyes, some small part of him still waiting for her to reject him, but she smiled and held her arms out to him, an invitation to welcome him home. He felt the tension release in his chest to be replaced by a warmth he'd never felt before. His painful past drained away and he was consumed with hope for their future. He knelt between her long shapely legs and pressed his lips to her fevered skin just above the lace, letting them linger reverently as her fingers brushed the hair away from where it had fallen in his eyes.

        “Love you,” he whispered so softly, he wasn't sure if she’d heard him.

        When he looked up, there were tears in her eyes, and her lower lip trembled as she fought to keep them from falling. “Oh, Daryl, I love you too.”

        He made quick work of ridding her of the last article of clothing between them, and then slowly returned to her, his warm weight pressing her into the cool sheets. He buried his face against her throat, his tongue hotly delving into the hollow between her delicate collarbones as he reveled at his skin flush with hers. His teeth gnashed as white hot lust surged to his groin as he came in contact with her molten core. How was he ever going to last?

        His woman, his mate, his love … She writhed beneath him, impatient and needy. “Daryl … please,” she mewled. “I can't … need you now.”

        He cried out as her slender fingers gripped him firmly, and he shifted as she guided him to the entrance of her body. He nearly lost it as the head of his cock slipped past the tight ring of muscle and greedily sucked him inside. “Fuck, fuck, fuck … Don't fuckin’ move, woman!”

        “Always the romantic,” she whispered teasingly.  Carol looked up at him with concern and ran a gentle hand the length of his back. It took quite an effort to do as he asked when she was more than ready for his primal side to reassert itself and take her. She was nearly past the point of madness when he moved again and slipped all the way inside with a groan.

        “So tight,” he practically whimpered, clenching his teeth as her inner walls grasped him, adjusting to his size in almost painful contractions. Her hand came to rest against the scruff on his jaw and he nuzzled into her touch, complete acceptance so evident in her gaze as she waited patiently for him.

        That one look was enough to get him moving, slowly as he adjusted to her silken heat. Pure pleasure crackled along his spine, wrapping around to pool at his belly, but he bit down on his tongue, focusing on the slight pain to prolong their joining, steadily coaxing her up the peak.

        Daryl’s chest rumbled with a primal groan. Before the outbreak, his sexual experiences had been a drunken fuck in the bar’s restroom, or in the parking lot behind the building. Always just an itch which needed scratching. But as he gazed down at Carol, at the love and need flushing her face a lovely pink, he realized they were so much more. This was making love, and the thought staggered him. His control deserted him as he watched her perfect mouth form a little gasping ‘o’ of surprise, her nails digging into his shoulders, her sheath clamping down on him as she came apart.

        His rhythm faltered, became more erratic, and he let go, falling into a mindless state of bliss as he followed her into oblivion. Never in his life could he have imagined anything so wonderful. His breathing still labored, he rolled to his side, but he couldn't bear to release her. His arms only tightened around her as he pulled her flush against his side.

        Daryl looked down to find her smiling smugly as she nuzzled against the light smattering of hair on his chest. Just before he gave over to what was sure to be the best sleep of his life, one thought played over and over in his mind … He'd claimed his woman and she'd done some claiming of her own. He had the marks to prove it, but one thing was certain … he'd be damned if he'd ever let her go.

 

*.*.*

 

        Two days later, Rick poked his head through the front door as he eased it open carefully and paused there on the threshold to listen. He swore if he heard “Oh, Pookie …” coming from upstairs one more time, he was going to stick something sharp in his ears. It was relatively quiet today, but that was no guarantee Daryl wouldn't come around the corner, crossbow in hand.

        Just to be kind and allow the couple time to themselves, he, Michonne and the kids had been tiptoeing around the house, scared to make the slightest noise which might disturb them. But enough was enough. They’d wanted Daryl and Carol to have ample time to screw the house down if they wanted, but it was time for the rest of their housemates to get back to their normal routine

        Alexandria’s constable closed the door soundlessly behind him, stepping into the foyer with a sigh. So far so good. Then he heard a giggle coming from the kitchen. _Dear lord, not the kitchen!_ he groaned. Not where he was supposed to get his three squares a day. He swiped a weary hand over his face, and followed the sound. A frown borne of confusion overtook his features as an answering laugh met his ears. It sounded like Daryl. Hell, it had to be him considering they'd been holed up there alone for the past forty-eight hours. But he'd never - in all the time he'd known the hunter - heard him make such a light- hearted sound.

        Rick peeked a cautious glance around the doorway and nearly fell over. Carol was perched atop her lover’s lap in nothing but her bathrobe, feeding his bites of homemade blackberry muffin between kisses. Daryl seemed happy and content to let her, Carol's free hand idly tracing circles across his bare chest beneath his weathered vest.

        He didn't know whether to make his presence known or flee right back out the door. Regardless, he couldn't bite back the smug smirk he wore that his plan had worked. Cupid didn't have shit on him, after all.

        “Might as well come on in, Rick,” Carol said, her brow pressed to Daryl's. “We know you're there.”

        Rick sighed and took a hesitant step forward. “Mornin’.”

        Daryl shot him a blank look, not an ounce of emotion revealed on his face. It hadn't taken long for him to figure out Rick's game, but now he had concocted one of his own. “Y’ gonna sit down?”

        Rick relaxed, and took his usual seat at the dining table. “Aaron was … um … wondering when you'd want to head out on that run y'all talked about a few days ago,” he began, reaching out to pluck a muffin from the container there in the middle of the table.

        “I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow.”  Before Rick’s fingers got close, Daryl snatched the tupperware bowl and moved it out of reach. “Claimed,” he growled, ignoring the sharp jab of his woman’s elbow as it connected with his ribs.

        “Oh come on!”

        Daryl smirked. “An’ t’ teach y’ t’ keep your big nose outta our affairs, there's gonna be a new rule for this claimin’ nonsense. Since Carol has accepted my claim, that means all o’ her belongs t’ me. Get your own woman t’ do your washin’ and cookin’ for y.”

        “Daryl,” she admonished half-heartedly, ruining it when she laughed outright at Rick's horrified expression.

        “Michonne would take her Katana to me if I suggested such a thing”

        Daryl glared at him and reached for another muffin. Carol took pity on him. “Rick, believe me when I say how grateful we _both_ are for your underhanded tactics … But this has to end. No more claiming. Though that period of his life was brief, he'd rather bury it where it belongs … in the past.”

        Rick never was able to deal well with a guilt trip, especially when it was Carol driving. “Fine. I’ll get the word out that our little game is over. Can I have a muffin now?” he asked, grinning unrepentantly.

        Carol passed the bowl to him as Daryl grumbled against her shoulder. “Spoilsport. Gotta ruin all m’fun.”

        She cupped his cheek and kissed the corner of his mouth. “We'll have time later for me to make it up to you, Pookie.”

        “Okay!  Gotta go!”  Rick jumped up from the table and high-tailed it out of the house, wondering if Maggie had any eye bleach at her house.

        Carol giggled as Daryl scooped her up in his arms and carried her towards the stairs. “We're living through th’ apocalypse, woman. Don't know how many ‘laters’ we got.”

        She sighed as he laid her down gently on their bed.  “Well, there’s no time like the present.”  Not when she was guaranteed an hour of pleasure in her lover’s arms.

 

  


**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So just a brief interlude and a little bit smutty goodness. I was in smut withdrawals ok!?!? Don't judge me lol. Instead, please comment/review and lemme know what you thought. *hugs*. Thanks for reading!!!


End file.
